


corners of today

by melacor



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: M/M, postcanon, some ending spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 12:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20815430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melacor/pseuds/melacor
Summary: “It's good for you to try something a little more calming.”“Is that why you keep coming out here?”Lio pauses for a moment, but he doesn't answer the question; he just picks up a new arrow, placing it in Galo's hand. “Aim."postcanon. in which lio still has a lot to deal with and adjust to, and something like archery is kind of grounding. galo learns a thing or two. lio learns he will never escape those dumb names.





	corners of today

Cleanup is, as expected, a long process. The longer that time stretches out, the clearer it is just how much there's still left to do-- both to clear damaged areas, to rebuild them, and to begin to mend societal rifts that won't be stitched shut as easily as anyone might hope.

It's also become clear to Galo that Lio is absorbed in his own work, that their efforts aren't entirely suited to working together all the time. His dedication's to his people more than it is to the city, and while he helps the squad, he's also working on behalf of all the former Burnish, taking him away for amounts of time he's never able to predict. In his free time...

Well, the problem is that he's not really sure what Lio's doing in his free time, even though they're sharing living space... some nights he'd think Lio hasn't even been there to sleep, if it weren't for the slightly rumpled sheets on the temporary bed he's been put up in. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised that someone who lived in secrecy is so good at slipping away when he wants to be, but it takes a while for him to successfully find the secluded spot in the woods that Lio's apparently taken to, his own version of the frozen lake outside the city. There's nothing like that here, only a decently-sized clearing amid the trees, the faint sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and the occasional chirp of a bird--

And Lio, standing some distance away from a makeshift archery target, an arrow already nocked as he takes aim. Galo takes a moment just to observe; he's seen the fire arrows he used to use in action, but everything moved so quickly in the middle of a fight. Here, it almost looks like Lio's frozen in time, silent and still except for the fall of his chest as he exhales a slow, steadying breath before letting the arrow fly right into the center of his target. Precise and controlled, every line of his body exactly where he wants it to be.

“You're terrible at hiding,” he says, without bothering to look in Galo's direction.

“That obvious, huh?”

Galo doesn't sound too bothered by that, stepping into the clearing and taking a closer look at Lio's setup, at the bow in his hands. “You know we've still got places you can practice back in Promepolis? You don't have to come all the way out here and hide, Lio.”

A moment or two passes in silence before Lio shrugs, lowering his arms for now and letting the bow hang at his side. “I prefer it here. It's quieter.”

“And it's harder to find. I did a lot of looking, you know!”

“If I wanted company, I'd have told you where I was going.”

“So you want me to leave?”

Lio considers that for a few moments, watching him in silence, observing the slight tilt of Galo's head as he waits for a response. His kneejerk response is to say yes; part of him, though, is keenly aware of just _ how _ quiet it is here. There's nothing to disturb his concentration, but there's also nothing to distract him from thinking of voices he no longer hears. Normal arrows aren't a very effective weapon in this day and age-- it's largely a test of his focus and control, something he used to need much more than he does now. These days it's more an effort to clear his head and to keep that control sharp, keeping himself grounded somehow while the world slowly changes around all of them.

Maybe a distraction wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he's just growing tired of running, this time, and maybe a familiar presence helps in ways he's not really prepared to say. In either case...

“You can stay. For now.” Grass rustles softly beneath his boots as he steps over to his bike and retrieves a spare bow, throwing it to Galo as he adds: “But you have to practice with me.”

Galo catches it and flashes him a confident grin, casually flexing an arm. “Piece of cake,” he says, his gaze dropping to the weapon in his hands. “I'll... hey, wait, how come you had an extra one ready?”

“No reason,” is all the answer he gets, and Galo's smile softens a little. All right, he guesses it wasn't hard to predict he'd show up eventually.

* * *

  


_ 'Focus', _ Lio had told him. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. But he tries, he takes in a breath like he'd been told, tries to pay close attention as he takes aim--

There's a loud _ twang _ and a _ snap _, followed closely by a hiss of breath and immediate complaint.

“Ow, what was _ that _ about-!”

“This is why I brought protective gear,” Lio says, matter-of-fact. Cool as usual, as he surveys the red line the bowstring's left on Galo's skin.

“I didn't think I'd need it against a string!” An accusing stare's leveled on the bow in his hands, as if the string had hit him on purpose, as if it wasn't his own lack of skill; beside him, he hears Lio breathe out a sigh.

“I should've expected as much, considering you don't protect your own _ skin _ fighting fires,” he murmurs. Galo opens his mouth, but Lio continues, speaking over him. “How many first aid kits have you gone through because your 'burning soul' doesn't stop blisters?”

“It's all part of the job,” he protests, “a man doesn't hide from the heat! Or from a little welt like this! Compared to a fire, this is nothing, you know?”

_ It didn't sound like nothing _, Lio thinks, but he chooses not to say so aloud. Instead he steps closer, not bothering to ask permission before he sets a hand on Galo's arm and moves it for him, carefully adjusting its position. “Hold your arm here,” he says as he works, and Galo quiets himself long enough to at least listen. Maybe it's partly just because of the touch of leather gloves against his skin. What was Lio saying, again--

The touch grows firmer, Lio's grip tightening just enough to be a little painful.

“Pay attention,” he says, just a hint of annoyance in his tone; he doesn't mind being given that attention, sometimes, but he's trying to accomplish something here. “This takes focus, Galo.”

“So why are you trying to teach it to me, huh?”

The grin on his face says he remembers well enough all the times Lio has complained about him, whether he meant them or not, and that gets him a half-smile in response. Just a slight quirk of Lio's lips. “Because it's good for you to try something a little more calming.”

“Is that why you keep coming out here?”

Lio pauses for a moment, but he doesn't answer the question; he just picks up a new arrow, placing it in Galo's hand. “Aim. Don't draw it back so far this time.”

His hands withdraw from where he'd set Galo's arms and hands into position, and he watches as the other man fixes his sights on a makeshift target, working to steady himself as he pulls the arrow back. It's not bad, Lio thinks, but he's yet to get used to just how much strength it takes to make the arrow fly where he wants-- it's a better shot this time, but it still flies to the side of the target, rustling through a bush along the way as Galo groans.

“I can shoot a gun just fine, what's _ with _ this thing?”

“It's different when it isn't mechanical, isn't it.”

“Yeah, but why bother, then? You could just fire a gun. Way more effective, right?” He mimes shooting with one hand, finger pointed at the target. “I'd have that thing frozen in a second!”

“But you still had to learn to work with the way it fires. Whether or not it recoils, how it handles, how long it takes the bullet to reach its mark. You just aren't learning to work with a mechanism, this way.”

That's why he likes it: there's nothing automatic about it. It feels more like he has full control over the shot, and exerting that control has always been such a necessary thing. Lio lifts his own bow, nocks an arrow and takes aim, stopping to exhale a slow breath before he lets it fly right into the center, just as he'd done while Galo watched before. From his right he hears a low whistle, and turns to meet Galo's smile with a raised brow.

“I get it, I guess. You work with yourself, right? Suits you.”

“What do you know, he _ can _ learn,” Lio mutters as he nocks a pair of arrows this time, ignoring the hint of a flush in his cheeks.

To his credit, Galo tries to be quiet while he aims, he really does, but it takes longer for Lio to center himself this time and as the seconds stretch out, he really just can't keep his mouth shut any longer.

“Did you pick this up-- you know. Before, or after?”

Whatever the question brings to mind, it seems to break Lio's focus just enough. He still strikes the target when he releases the arrows held between his fingers, but both are off-center, and he huffs out a slight, frustrated breath. It's already strange enough to adjust to working with real ones again, even when he's not distracted.

“Does it matter?”

“Guess not,” Galo says with a shrug. “There's just still a lot I don't know about you.”

“There's just as much I don't know about you,” Lio points out, and he supposes he shouldn't be surprised when Galo reacts with his usual earnestness.

“So you can just ask! I'll tell you whatever you want to know about the universe's number one firefighter-- before the reporters get to hear it, even. A Galo Thymos exclusive!”

“Mm.” Lio takes up another arrow, considering while he takes aim yet again, focused on the feel of it in his hand. He could ask. It'd be just as simple as Galo says it is-- but then there'd be a certain obligation to respond in kind. Of course he could always refuse, but he has a feeling _ that _ wouldn't be as easy to get away with, and for all that he prefers to keep a certain distance...

Another slow exhale, another release, and he watches the arrow lodge itself off- center. He doesn't want to open up, but neither does he want to actively drive a wedge between them right now.

“I know enough,” is the answer he eventually settles on, glancing back just in time to catch the slightly surprised look on Galo's face. “Now are you going to try again, or are you going to keep distracting me instead?”

“Do you mind it that much?”

“I do.”

He's already pointedly looking away, but he hears the sigh Galo exhales, the quiet grunt as he stretches himself out and prepares himself to make another attempt. “You sure about this, Lio? It's not really my speed... how's something like this supposed to get me all fired up, huh? And isn't this all pretty outdated?”

“That isn't the point.”

“Focus or something, I got that, but it's not _ me _ . You know? I just gotta get myself fired up and go!” He clenches a fist and pumps it, striking a pose with it held close to his chest, and it's all just so-- _ him _ that Lio can't help the hint of laughter that escapes as he shakes his head.

Maybe he's right. Maybe Lio's going about this all wrong, trying to teach someone like Galo to do things differently. He'd said something before, hadn't he, about the two of them being like oil and water; the cool focus that Lio has worked hard to cultivate just isn't as effective with someone who needs to burn in a different way than his own people always have.

“Then let's try something different,” he finally says, and Galo doesn't quite drop the pose immediately, giving him a questioning look.

“Like what?”

“Try it your way.” Lio gestures to the target as he adds, “However it feels right to do it.”

A grin lights up his face as he takes up the bow one more time, and Lio feels for a moment like the flame in it might just be contagious. “You mean-”

“Yeah. Show me that soul of yours can burn with this, too.” Lio matches that grin, holding up a closed fist. “Make it-- a Flaming Armor-Piercing Shot.”

Galo matches his gesture, bumping their fists together with enthusiasm. “That one's not bad, Lio! You could get pretty good at naming things!”

He ignores the way Lio's nose wrinkles at that in much the same way that Lio tries to ignore the beat of his pulse and the fact that he'd actually _ said _ that, muttering something about how that's definitely _ not _ a compliment to him. His focus quickly returns, though, as he watches Galo nock the arrow, observes the determined expression on his face and the pose he strikes as he faces the target.

“Stay right where you are! Like a flame melting through ice, I'll tear right through you!”

Lio elects not to say anything about how the target clearly can't move, letting him continue uninterrupted as Galo takes aim, drawing the bowstring back with an enthusiasm that Lio would have corrected him on with any other attempt.

“Take this! Flaming... Armor-Piercing Shot!”

A tree nearby rustles as his shout startles a bird into flight, and it's followed shortly by a rip and a heavy _ thunk _ as his arrow finds its mark-- true to his word, it goes right through the target, tearing a hole right next to one of Lio's arrows and lodging in the supports behind it. He turns to the smaller man with a beaming smile, pointing aggressively to the target with his other hand settled proudly on his hip.

“How's that one, huh?”

“Not bad,” Lio says, and for once he actually sounds a little impressed. “I didn't think you could stay on target with that much force.”

“You should know better than to underestimate me and my--”

“Your soul. Yeah, I know.”

Galo's brow furrows at the interruption, that jubilant expression fading a little, but he doesn't have time to complain before he realizes Lio's lit by the fading sun now, the light and color shifting and highlighting him in orange. He's unsure whether the expression on his face is actually softer or if it's a trick of that late afternoon light, but it reminds him of a different type of flame than the kind he'd always seen Lio wreathed in... more like he's bathed in the warm glow of a hearth.

Speaking of warmth, though, that brings another thought to mind-- he looks to the position of the sun, then back to Lio.

“Hey, we better head back. You ready?”

“There's still daylight left,” Lio answers, but he's met with a shake of his partner's head.

“Yeah, but it's gonna get colder pretty soon. C'mon.”

He's not the brightest, but he's also not blind. He's noticed Lio runs colder now, and he can also see that he didn't bring an extra layer out here with him. Galo retrieves his own coat from his bike and drapes it over Lio's shoulders before he can object, aware enough that Lio won't reject the warmth once it's there.

(And that isn't wrong, really. He'd rather accept it now than let Galo see him shiver later.)

“...fine,” Lio says, as if he could have given a different answer. “But you're helping me pack everything up first.”

“Lucky for you that cleanup's part of the job, right?”

All he gets is a soft _ hmph _, a gesture past the target. “And half of the mess is your fault to begin with. Go find the ones that missed.”

As he watches Galo trudge off into the brush, he considers that maybe he's been looking for what he needs in the wrong place-- though when Galo leans down to press a kiss to his lips before they leave, he can't help but think it feels like a dangerous kind of warmth. Like something that could scorch the barriers he's always cultivated too easily for his own comfort, despite the instinctive way that he's drawn to it.

Maybe it is still his destiny to burn, in some form.

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever just think about one thing and suddenly you have a whole fic? anyway this is all because of lio's fire arrows, thanks for those. title taken from the weakerthans' 'watermark'. also sorry the spacing is weird i will try to fix it later,
> 
> anyway you can find me on twitter at @ probabiliteej if you want to yell about promare and these boys! i'm down for it 100% of the time.


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